


Welcome To The Land Of The Living, Kevin Day

by JayJFox



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bisexual Disaster Kevin Day, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayJFox/pseuds/JayJFox
Summary: Kevin Day, America's Exy golden boy, is a PR bliss. Impeccable reputation. No drama. The sheer epitome of perfection.Kevin lives for the day he will win the Olympics and there's nothing that can stop him on his way to the gold.Then Jean Moreau happens and Kevin's path looks a lot less clear.OR Another Kevin/Jean angsty, fluffy fic, because why not.
Relationships: Kevin Day/Jean Moreau, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 8
Kudos: 53





	Welcome To The Land Of The Living, Kevin Day

There were three things in life Kevin Day was certain about. 

One. People looked at him as if he was flawless. The best on the court. Perfect on interviews. No scandals, no personal life drama spilled over to the media. A fucking manifestation of a PR heavenly bliss. He didn’t mind it, but they were wrong. 

Two. If he stopped playing Exy he would probably die. He wasn’t even exaggerating. Exy was his lifeline, the fire in his blood, the first blissed sip of coffee in the morning, the force that kept his lungs drawing air in. Most people didn’t get it, and Kevin honestly didn’t give a rat’s ass about it. 

And three. He was not an easy person to like. That wasn’t news to anybody, and he wasn’t that oblivious to shy away from the truth. Even Neil and Andrew said he had an Exy stick up his ass 24/7 and his happy face looked suspiciously like a grumpy storm cloud. The assholes loved him all the same, though. Probably because they weren’t paragons of normal human behavior themselves. 

It wasn’t really surprising when Kevin left the hall the second the official Olympics briefing with the media ended. It was time to socialize and he was bad at it. Not just that, Kevin didn’t really care to know any of his teammates outside of an Exy court, Neil and Andrew being exceptions, of course. 

It was the first day of the one-month intensive practice before the Olympics in France, and Kevin did not have the energy to waste in chit chat and fake smiles. He sneaked away from the crowd and headed for the elevators. The security guards stopped the reporters who followed. Always so eager to steal another shot of the perfect Kevin Day. Assholes. Kevin viewed journalists as vicious leeches feeding on other people’s lives. He was pretty sure they got off on the harm they caused. 

A year ago the bastards nearly destroyed Neil’s career when someone released a detailed article about Neil’s past. About the Butcher of Baltimore, Neil’s father. They made it sound like he was still involved with those people, and Kevin knew better than anyone how much it had cost Neil to run away from this life. He knew about his life on the run, about his uncle’s deal with the FBI, about Nathan Wesninski’s untimely death. 

When Neil had moved to PSU, Kevin had been his only friend. Until that asshole, Andrew, showed up, transferring to PSU from USC in his third year. 

Kevin knew it all. He’d seen parts of it himself. It made the media blowout even more unbearable. Not long after, Andrew released a photo of Neil and him together, shifting the attention in a different direction. 

What Andrew did for Neil… It was a risk, it was equivalent to shitting on his own career to come out like that. Kevin had thought then that none of them would make Court, not after that. But here they were, both of them, on the national team about to win the Olympics. 

Fuck the bigots. 

Kevin ignored the reporters shouting his name and made it to the elevators. The doors were closing when a hand slipped in and pushed them open. 

Jean Moreau’s bored expression greeted him. Ah, fuck. If Kevin should pick his least favorite person on the national team, that would undoubtedly be Jean Moreau, the French arrogant asshole. 

Kevin remembered the first time he met Jean Moreau. Jean had been fifteen then, Kevin fourteen. He could barely speak proper English, but, God, the way that boy held a racquet. He was good, so good it was a spectacle of its own to watch him do drills at the stadium. 

Kevin had only seen Jean during practices. He had that look on his face, a dead kind of look as if nothing mattered to him. Kevin had seen the bruises and scars, the hollows beneath his eyes. Little glimpses during practice, but nothing outside of the stadium. Tetsuji saw to that. But Kevin had known something was very wrong then. He knew Riko’s impulse to hurt people intimately, but he thought he was the only one until he’d seen Jean’s bruises.

“Day,” Jean practically hissed and nodded. “Too important to answer reporters’ questions?”

Asshole. Jean Moreau had never been anything but a complete asshole to Kevin. Although, Kevin couldn’t think of a reason why the backliner would hate him so much. 

They’d barely interacted back in Evermore and even then, Jean spilled nothing but curses and snarky comments his way. It had gone on for an entire year before Kevin turned fifteen and found his mother’s letter about his father’s identity. He’d left Evermore in the middle of the night and never looked back. 

He hadn’t seen Jean Moreau for three years after that.

“Yes.” Kevin glared at him. “What’s your excuse, Moreau? I thought you were French. Aren’t you supposed to have better manners?”

“Nah. Your brother beat them out of me, don’t you remember?”

Kevin’s face burned. “I don’t have a brother.”

“Ah, right. You fell out of touch. Shame.”

The corner of Jean’s mouth twitched. 

God, there wasn’t anything more Kevin wanted right then than to punch the smug fucking smile off Jean Moreau’s stupid face. 

He spent the rest of the lift ride in silence, ignoring the violent urge. Jean turned to face Kevin before he took the corridor to his room and sneered, dipping down in a mocking half-bow. 

“Good night, your highness,” he said in that thick French accent Kevin hated. 

Kevin hated _everything_ about Jean Moreau. 

~~~

“I’m telling you, Neil, one of us will be dead by the end of the Olympics and it’s not going to be me. I mean… I got you _and_ Andrew to save my ass from the smug bastard.”

Neil hummed in response. 

“Besides, what is he gonna do? Talk me to death in that annoying accent?”

Neil hummed again. 

“Aren’t you going to say something?”

Neil ran a hand through his hair and reached for his coffee mug. “Kev, for someone who has the emotional capacity of R2D2 you sure seem a little too rattled by Jean.”

“R2D2?” Oh, shit, this was one of Neil’s tech mockeries, wasn’t it?

Neil thunked his head onto the table muttering something that sounded like “Kill me now.”

A pat on Kevin’s shoulder almost had him jump off his seat. Andrew took the seat next to Neil, wrapped an arm around his shoulders and stole his coffee. 

“What are you talking about?” Andrew sipped from the cup and grimaced at the taste. Neil drank his coffee like a heathen—black, no sugar. And he accused _Kevin_ of being boring and uptight. 

Neil muttered something incoherent, his head still pressed onto the table. 

Andrew leaned down. “Did he give you a speech about Ireland again? Kevin, you’ve gotta stop doing this shit. We _get it._ Ireland’s the best.”

Kevin snorted. “I did nothing of the sort.” Honestly, his speeches about Ireland were a delight. He had no idea what Andrew was complaining about. 

Neil finally looked up and rubbed his cheek against Andrew’s. 

“He doesn’t know what R2D2 is, Drew! I can’t be friends with him anymore!” Neil threw his arms up dramatically. He loved doing that when he made fun of Kevin. 

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, if this is someone from your silly movies with the glow-stick swords, I’ll just remind you that I will not, not now, not ever, not when hell freezes over, watch it.”

Andrew chuckled. 

“Glow… stick… swords.” Neil looked like his brain was melting. “Drew. Remember when you said you’d kill a man for me?”

Andrew choked on a little cough. “Neil.”

“Do it now. Like, right this second. Fuck if we lose the Olympics. Kill him.”

Kevin laughed. “Aaaalright. You’re insufferable about your space cowboys.”

Andrew put his face in his palms, his shoulder shaking with laughter. “Kevin. Stop before he has a stroke. Or I kill you.”

“Fine. But just so you know, this isn’t going to end well. I’ll whack him with my racquet and there are cameras at the stadium, Neil. Cameras! God, that will fuck my reputation good.”

Neil reached over and gently slapped Kevin’s cheek. “Get a grip, man. You’ve seen worse.”

“Is this about Moreau?” Andrew said. 

“Who else?” Neil took another sip and forced his face into a dramatic expression. “Jean Moreau,” he said, lowering his voice, “the Jocker to Kev’s Batman, the Magneto to Kev’s Professor X, the Saruman to Kev’s Frodo—”

“Yeah, shut up. You’re exaggerating. A bit.”

“A bit.” Neil grinned. 

Andrew waved to the waiter. “Hey, at least he didn’t say ‘who are those people’, Neil.”

“I’ve been educating him for years, Drew. Years!”

“I knew who the Jocker was, you little shit. And I’ve read The Lord of the Rings. I just don’t like the glow-stick fighting people.”

“They’re lightsabers!”

“Glow sticks.”

“Lightsabers!”

“There’s no fucking difference, Neil!”

“You take that back or I’ll shackle you to a chair and let Moreau talk to you about French history until you pass out.”

Andrew was pressing a hand over his mouth, smothering a fit of laughter. Just as the right retort formed on Kevin’s lips he found Jean Moreau’s stormy grey eyes staring at him from behind Neil’s shoulder. 

“I’m perfectly capable of shackling my own victims, Josten, but thanks.” His goddamn accent made Neil’s name sound softer than Kevin had ever heard it.

Jean patted Neil’s shoulder and headed to the bar in the hotel’s restaurant. 

“Neil…” Kevin ran a hand over his face. Fucking hell.

“Oops.” Neil leaned onto Andrew’s shirt, burying a laugh in the black fabric. 

In retrospect, Kevin could have picked better friends throughout the years.

~~~

Two weeks of intensive training left Kevin with more bruises than he’d had for the last couple of years combined. Jean Moreau made a point of body checking him any chance he had, and he was vicious about it. 

How far did the asshole plan on taking this? What was next? Break Kevin’s arm or something? Kevin had to put a stop to this shit before one of them ended in a hospital. They were supposed to work together and win this thing. It was the fucking Olympics for crying out loud. They were going to win. They had to. _Kevin had to win_.

Jean stared at Kevin from across the field as if he was trying to set him on fire. The backliner always insisted on playing against Kevin during practice. Considering the ever-growing amount of bruises on Kevin’s body, Kevin didn’t have to wonder why. The asshole just wanted an excuse to hurt him. 

Well, fine. Fucking fine. Kevin wasn’t backing out of this. He wasn’t letting Jean Moreau get the best of him. He focused on the goal, and let Neil’s elaborate combination play out. He caught the ball, sprinting toward the goal, passed it to Neil, Neil to Dominique Reyes, Dominique back to Kevin, and… a body slammed into Kevin so hard, he crashed on the ground, his head throbbing where it clocked against the floor. The blow knocked the air out of his lungs. 

Kevin forced a breath, fighting against the haze. A face above him came into focus. Andrew. Someone was shouting his name. Coach Lee was shouting Jean’s name. Kevin couldn’t make out any of the words that followed. 

Neil sank down to his knees two seconds after Andrew, his palm patting Kevin’s cheek.

“I’m okay,” Kevin forced out. 

“You sure? Can you sit up?” Neil asked. 

Andrew’s face was a raging storm. He shot up to his feet and turned to Jean, slamming both hands against his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking dick?”

Jean stumbled back a couple of steps. “It was an accident. It happens at practice. What, do you think the other teams will be gentle with Queen Day cause he’s a fucking Exy royalty or something?”

Neil snapped at that, jumping to his feet, spitting quick words in French. “Listen, you giant French asshole, Kevin is an idiot but he’s _my_ idiot. Touch him again and see how it goes!”

“ _Your_ idiot? What, are you going to claim everyone on the team with a half-decent ass now?”

“My _friend_ , you dick! I’m sure you know what that word means. Not from real life, of course, but from movies and stuff.”

Andrew pulled Neil back, murmuring something in German.

“Moreau, locker room,” coach Lee growled. Jean mumbled something incoherent in French under his breath and headed to the locker room.

Lee leaned over Kevin, his hands crossed in front of his chest. “Day, go see the nurse. No ‘I’m okay’ bullshit. Then I need you in my office.”

Nurse Alinki let Kevin go after a brief exam. It was nothing really. He hadn’t even hit his head that hard. When he entered coach Lee’s office, Jean Moreau was already sitting on the black leather couch, looking bored as usual. 

Lee gave Kevin a one-over and nodded for him to sit down. “Everything okay, Day?”

“Yes. Like I said, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Of course, you are. Here’s the thing. It isn’t news to anybody that you two can’t stand each other. But, unlike _anybody_ , I don’t give a fuck. I don’t care who injured whose pride or who stole the other’s fucking girlfriend in college. This is the fucking Olympics we’re talking about.”

“Coach, this isn’t—”

“Shut up, Day. Your college feud is not going to compromise the Olympics. Am I clear?”

Kevin mumbled a quiet “yes, coach”, just about the same time Jean did. Lee was wrong. They didn’t have a college feud. There wasn’t a distinct moment when Jean and Kevin started hating each other. They just always had. Ever since Jean appeared in Evermore. 

After Kevin left Evermore, he hadn’t even thought about Jean Moreau until he met him on the court three years later, when both of them were with their college teams. It made sense back then—Riko hated Kevin for walking away and every Raven knew that, so they all hated Kevin, too, and none of them shied away from showing it on and off the court. 

Then the investigation against Tetsuji Moriyama had started and the news leaked out. Every dirty detail about the Ravens, charges of human trafficking and abuse of minors and whatnot. The trials destroyed Riko’s future career in Exy, but they saved the Ravens. Or so Kevin thought. 

That had all happened years ago. Kevin had been a sophomore then. And even though many things changed for the Ravens after those trials, one thing remained; three years after Kevin joined a professional team, Jean Moreau still hated his guts like a stupid, stubborn child. 

Coach Lee cleared his throat, jolting Kevin out of his thoughts. 

“Next week the team’s participating in a few charity events. You two are flying to San Francisco for the opening of an Exy hall of fame museum or whatever. Together.”

“Fuck no—”

“I’d rather eat dirt than—”

“Shut up.” Lee made a cutting gesture in the air between them. “Fuck, yes, Day. Enjoy eating dirt, Moreau. Call it a bonding activity. It’s either that or I’m putting you in therapy sessions or… I don’t know, getting you in a get-along shirt. Whatever. I. Don’t. Care. Fix this shit. We’re not going to France with the team fractured. We need to be a united force if we want to win this thing, and trust me when I say this, I don’t care what I need to do to make it happen. I’ll lock you in a room for a week if I have to, got it?”

Another round of ‘yes, coach’ and Kevin was storming out of the room. 

~~~

Jean Moreau was a sleepy mess standing at the check-in line at the airport. Messy hair, half-lidded eyes, and an expression so soft, Kevin didn’t think he’d ever seen it like that. Without the wicked cut of his cold smile, he seemed like a different person. Not that Kevin was staring or anything. 

They had an unspoken agreement to ignore each other until this was done, and it was working. None of them said a word to the other. Their seats were next to each other, courtesy to coach Lee, the bastard. 

It was five in the morning and the last thing Kevin Day wanted was to get on that plane. But Lee was right. Jean’s idiotic feud with him was more than inconvenient. They needed to be a part of that team and trust each other. On the court, that was. No one cared if they wanted to kill each other the second they stepped out. 

Kevin loved flying. The tingling sensation in his stomach when the plane took off the ground was something he’d have any day. He sipped a cup of that horrible excuse of coffee they served on the flight and looked through the window. He didn’t spare a glance at Jean. They were pretty great at ignoring each other. Kevin had his headphones on and was starting to doze off when he felt a weight on his shoulder. 

His breath hitched a little. Jean’s head radiated heat into Kevin’s skin through the fabric of his shirt. His eyes were closed, twitching every now and then. From that close, Kevin saw a small scar on his eyebrow. It looked like a scar from a piercing growing out. Kevin didn’t remember seeing one on him over the years, though. He could easily imagine how that would look on Jean. 

Jean shifted slightly, nuzzling his face against Kevin’s shirt. It had been quite a long time since Kevin had anyone that close to him, Exy practices and body checks aside. The warmth spreading from his shoulder was… well, distracting. And Kevin hated being distracted. He cranked the volume up on his phone and turned to look out the window. 

He could’ve pushed Jean away, but the truth was it felt good. Scarily so. When was the last time Kevin had let anyone touch him? He didn’t remember. Maybe Thea? No, the girl on the soccer team. But that was years ago. The only people who’d ever put a hand on him were Neil and Andrew, and those were casual friendly touches. They didn’t feel like that. 

Kevin swallowed when Jean shifted again. The backliner turned his face closer to Kevin’s neck, sending a fresh wave of heat through his body. 

Andrew might be right. Oh, shit, Kevin must be in some sort of fucking hell if this was a world where Andrew Minyard was right. Andrew said Kevin was so stuck in his Exy obsession, he’d lose himself into it completely, until the pressure was more than he could handle. He said Kevin needed to get loose every now and then. Do something stupid. Drink too much in a club. Have a casual hook up. Kevin did none of those things. Well, except for the drinking bit, but it had been years since he got drunk in a club. It hadn’t happened since college when Kevin decided maintaining a good image was worth more than being wasted.

Maybe Kevin should start dating. Casually. Whatever what entailed. It wasn’t like there was a shortage of women who wanted to go out with him. 

Kevin focused on his playlist for the rest of the flight.

When the plane was about to touch down, Jean was still sleeping on his shoulder. Kevin took the headphones off and negotiated waking Jean up for a couple of minutes. 

He poked a finger in Jean’s cheek, shaking his head a bit. Jean woke up with a start. 

“You’re drooling on my shirt, asshole,” Kevin said, not missing on the opportunity to have the upper hand on Jean just once. 

“Merde,” Jean muttered as he pulled away. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Me? You’re the one who thought using me as a pillow was a good idea.”

“I didn’t… Nevermind.”

“Yeah, nevermind. We’re about to land.”

The worst thing about this ‘team event’ was that they were missing precious days of practice. The team participating in such a publicity stunt wasn’t something Kevin had expected but it definitely drew attention on them. That was probably the idea. 

The event went boring as hell. Kevin pulled his on-camera smile, all knee-weakening charm and self-confidence, and Jean spent half of the time with the kids lining up to get an autograph from both of them. At the end of it, Kevin wanted a drink and a long shower and to stay away from every living human being in the world. 

On the way out of the event, a little girl, not older than seven or eight, stopped Kevin, pulling his sleeve. 

“You’re Kevin Day,” she said. 

Kevin smiled. “Yes. What’s your name?”

“Kayleigh,” the girl said. Kevin’s heart made a little jump in his chest. 

“That’s a pretty name.” He crouched down. “It was my mom’s name”

The girl’s eyes went huge. “Really?”

“Yes. Are you here alone?” This wasn’t the hall where all the kids waited for autographs. It was an empty hall where the staff stayed. 

“No. Dad is here. He’s a janutor… a janitor. I asked him to take me with him today because I wanted to see you, but there were too many other kids and I have nothing to sign. But Dad said it’s ok and you can sign anything, even a piece of paper. He says you’re the best Exy player in the world.”

Kevin laughed. “I don’t know about the world. I’m sure there are many players who are amazing.

“Nooo,” Kayleigh whined. “Dad says you’re the best.”

Kevin dug in his bag and pulled out a signed shirt. Those were supposed to go to the organizers but fuck those assholes. There was a girl with his mom’s name and her dad who _cared_ , and Kevin didn’t give a flying fuck about the stuck-up bastards who’d be upset he screwed them over with a shirt.

“Here. Take this one.” 

Kayleigh’s eyes were so big it was the most adorable thing Kevin had ever seen. 

“Thank you, Kevin Day,” the girl said. 

Kevin smiled and he didn’t have to force it this time. He turned back to look at the hall, and found Jean, leaning against the door frame, staring at him. 

“Hey, as—Jean. Say hi to Kayleigh.” 

Kayleigh’s smile grew from ear to ear. “Jean Moreau!”

“Hey, look at that, you’re saying my name right,” Jean said. 

He was right. Kayleigh said his name like it was supposed to be pronounced, with a soft, curled J, and not at all like Americans like to say it, Gene. 

Jean took a sharpie out of his pocket and leaned down to sign Kevin’s shirt, too. Objectively, cute. Kevin still wanted to bust his lip for that. 

Kayleigh jumped on her heels. 

“Bye, Kayleigh,” Kevin said on his way to the back exit. 

When Jean and he got into the car to the hotel, Jean looked at him as if he’d never seen Kevin before. 

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kevin sighed. “Just spill, Moreau.”

“That was just unusually… nice of you.”

“Unusually nice? You don’t even know me. How do you know what’s usual for me.”

Jean snorted. “I know you must have been something if you ended up being Riko Moriyama’s brother.” 

Kevin snapped. “I’m not. I’m not Riko’s brother. I’ve never been Riko’s fucking brother.”

The silence that followed could cut through metal. Jean leaned back on his seat in the car and stared out the window until they reached the hotel. 

They could’ve left the same day, but coach Lee was a really sneaky asshole and, of course, he booked a room for Kevin and Jean to spend the night in San Fransisco. Great. 

Kevin sneaked out of the hotel, had dinner at a tiny italian place and returned to their hotel room after midnight, hoping Jean would already be asleep.

He found the backliner sitting on the floor in the room, eating strawberries, while reading a magazine. 

Jean looked up when Kevin walked in and then turned back to his magazine. This ignoring each other thing was awesome. Kevin quickly brushed his teeth, changed into a soft shirt and threw himself on the bed. The pillow smelled like cherry blossoms. 

“I’ll be done in a minute,” Jean mumbled from his spot on the floor. 

Kevin assumed he said it because the light was still on. Was he pretending to be considerate now? It felt odd. 

“It doesn’t bother me. I can sleep anywhere.”

“Good to know.”

Kevin pressed his face into the pillow and forced his brain to switch off. He heard Jean walk to the bathroom, the water running, then a quiet shuffling of fabric and Jean finally making his way to his bed. 

Ahh, fucking sleep, Kevin! His mind was playing scenes of every single time Jean was an asshole to him for no reason. Jean didn’t move but Kevin knew he wasn’t asleep. His breaths were unchanged, small sighs coming out of his mouth every now and then. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” Kevin said and he instantly regretted it. 

What the hell was he thinking? That was Jean fucking Moreau, the one who’d gladly throw him on the ground, hoping he’d break a leg or something. 

“You wanna talk about that in the middle of the night, Day? Go to sleep for fuck’s sake.”

“Right. Sure.”

Kevin turned around and faced Jean’s bed finding Jean’s burning stare boring a hole at him. He closed his eyes, and somehow he could still feel Jean’s eyes on him. It was ridiculous. 

“Because you made him hurt me,” Jean said. 

Kevin’s eyes shot open. He pushed himself up so fast he thought he’d strain a muscle in his neck. “I did what?”

“You heard me, Day.”

“No. No. Wait. I made who hurt you?”

“Playing dumb isn’t attractive.”

“Jean.” Kevin ran a hand over his face. What the ever-loving fuck was this about? “What are you talking about?”

“Riko.”

“Riko. I haven’t spoken to Riko Moriyama outside of an Exy court since I was fifteen.”

Jean snorted. “Oh, you did enough when you were still playing the part of his little bitch brother in Evermore.”

“He’s not my… I’ve never had anything to do with whatever Riko did. To anyone. Including you.”

Jean sat in his bed and flicked the light on. His stormy grey eyes were heavy on Kevin. “You told him to shut me up, teach me to behave. You told him that if I didn’t know to respect you because of who you are then I’d have to learn another way.”

“ _What_?”

The room was spinning. Something dark and vile rose in Kevin’s chest. He remembered one of his last practices in Evermore. Jean had a bruise, a purple nebula blossoming on his cheek. Near the end of the practice, Jean had slammed into Kevin, breaking his attack. Riko had neared both of them then and looked between them, then mumbled “You still have a lot to learn, Moreau”. Kevin had thought then he meant the game. 

“I’ve never asked him to hurt you, Jean. I wouldn’t…” Kevin sighed. He stood up, turned the lamp on his nightstand on and pulled his shirt up. A pattern of scars littered his abdomen. Thin lines, cut with a razor. Short and shallow but enough to leave a scar. Riko’s work on him, all done during Kevin’s last year in Evermore. All of them a punishment. Some for Kevin’s careless mouth, some for overshadowing Riko on the court, some for mistakes Kevin made during practice. 

Jean’s eyes grew wider at the sight. 

“I’ve never asked him to hurt you,” Kevin pulled his shirt down. “You can believe whatever the hell you want.”

And with that, he left Jean speechless in his bed and went to sleep. 

~~~

Jean caught Kevin alone in the locker room three days before they left for France, and Kevin knew it wasn’t an accident. The backliner had been trying to talk to him in private since that conversation in the hotel room, and Kevin had been avoiding him altogether. 

There were no more incidents on the court, though. Lee made it very clear he was beyond happy about it. 

Kevin pulled a shirt on and turned to face Jean. 

“What do you want?”

“Just wanted to talk.”

“About?”

Jean sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Did Riko do that to you?” Jean gestured at Kevin’s stomach. 

“I sure didn’t do it to myself.”

“Why?”

“For fuck’s sake, Jean, what do you want from me?”

“I spent more than ten years hating you, Kevin. I want to know how much of it was another one of Riko’s games.”

“I already told you, I have never told Riko to do anything to anyone, and that includes you. You think it’s some sort of a grand scheme on my part? Whatever. You’re free to think whatever you like.”

Jean held his hands defensively in the air in front of him. “Okay. I didn’t come here to fight with you. Just tell me why he did it. That’s all I want to know.”

Kevin’s blood boiled in his veins. All the memories of Riko clashed into a blurry mess in his head. Riko with a razor over him, pressing his knees into Kevin’s hips. Riko slamming Kevin’s head into a wall. Riko choking Kevin in his sleep. Every memory burned. Like alcohol spilling over a fresh wound. 

“It was a punishment, Jean. What the fuck do you think it is? Are you that big of an idiot to think he only ever hurt you? Riko is a fucking psychopath. Just because he thought one investment was bigger than the other, doesn’t mean there was any difference in how he looked at us. The only difference between me and you is that I had someone to run to. And I did. I’m not going to apologize for saving myself when the opportunity presented itself.”

Jean’s eyes raked through Kevin’s frame. “I’m sorry.”

“For which part?”

“For being wrong about you.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Kevin’s head buzzing. 

That evening was the last conference before the Olympics. The entire team was sat on a huge round assembly of tables, cameras in the middle and dozens of fucking journalists. 

Jean Moreau wore a dark blue suit that made his eyes look like molten metal. Kevin was admittedly distracted but then again he hadn’t seen Jean in a suit before. Not even on the Christmas banquets in college when everyone was all prepped up. 

The journalists asked millions of questions and all Kevin could think about was the win. They were going to win the Olympics. He knew that. 

The team was like a finely-tuned machine now that Kevin and Jean left their antagonism behind. 

Every now and then Kevin looked up and met Jean’s eyes across the table. Something in his stomach twitched. Pre-Olympics jitters. It was that. Kevin knew it. 

But it felt like more. 

Kevin sneaked out of the hall the second the conference was over. 

~~~

The first day in France was complete madness. Journalists, thousands of cameras, not a second of silence. Kevin’s head was about to explode. The moment he shut the door of his hotel room behind him, he buried himself in the sheets on his bed and fell asleep within minutes. 

Time difference was a bitch. Kevin barely found a balance between gym, interviews and sleep. For the games, though, he was on fire. 

They won their first and second game, against Germany and Brazil, and Kevin. Was. On. Fire. 

Neil was ecstatic. He was probably the only person who understood Kevin’s passion for Exy. He let Neil and Andrew talk him into celebrating in the hotel bar. Most of their teammates were in their rooms sleeping off the time difference. It was just the three of them, Jeremy Knox and Laila Dermott. 

Jeremy was too much sunshine and positivity. Not that it was a bad thing but Kevin wasn’t used to it. No one could be that happy all the fucking time. 

When Jeremy brought tequila shots, Kevin decided it was his cue to get the hell out of there. He took the elevator to his room and went on the balcony on the fifth floor of the hotel. 

The air was crispy fresh with a sweet scent in the air that Kevin couldn’t place. He liked France. What was there not to like? It was beautiful, he spoke the language, fucking picture perfect. The journalists were eating his words up, swooning over him when he spoke French as if everyone in this country wasn’t speaking the same damn language. 

He saw a dark figure in the shadows as he reached the railing. 

“You really avoid people like the plague, don’t you?” Jean’s raspy voice came from the shadowed corner. 

The backliner stepped closer and leaned over the railing next to Kevin. 

“Sometimes I need some quiet time.”

“Sometimes. Is this a code word for always?”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “And what, you’re staying here all alone cause you’re an epitome of social engagement?”

“I don’t pretend to be America’s Exy sweetheart like you are, so I can be grumpy wherever the fuck I want.”

“I don’t pretend… Nevermind. Enjoy your balcony, Moreau.” Kevin turned on his heel and headed to the door. 

A slight pull on his shoulder stopped him mid-stride. 

“I didn’t mean you should go,” Jean said in that infuriating accent. 

“Because everything you say is so welcoming?”

Jean pushed Kevin until Kevin’s back pressed into the railing. He pressed his hands on both sides of Kevin, trapping him between them. 

He was close enough so that when he spoke, Kevin felt his breath against his mouth. 

“And what should I say to sound… welcoming?” Jean muttered in a voice that sounded way, _way_ too soft. His breath smelled like whiskey. 

“I… Are you drunk?”

Jean huffed a little laugh. His gaze slipped to Kevin’s lips. The air felt heavy and charged, and Kevin’s insides were positively molten at the thought of Jean’s lips against his skin. 

This was absolutely absurd. All of it. Kevin was straight. Was he? He’d only been with Thea. And that one girl from the soccer team one time. Well, he’d never been interested in another guy so… Definitely. Definitely straight. But then Jean’s thumb slid along the line of Kevin’s lower lip, sending a hot shiver along his spine, and that was absolutely not the reaction of a straight guy at the touch of another guy’s fingers on his lips. Fuck. 

“Jean… I have to… I should probably… Umm… You’re drunk. I mean, I’m not saying that as a judgmental asshole, but… you shouldn’t probably… I mean…”

“Day.” Jean pressed a finger against Kevin’s lips. “Shut up. Stop freaking out.”

Kevin swallowed hard. “I’m not freaking out.”

“Sure, you’re not. But you’re right. I _am_ drunk and I should probably sleep it off before tomorrow’s game.”

Jean pushed away from the railing, stealing all the warmth around Kevin on his way back inside. 

Oh, shit. 

~~~

Kevin slept in fits and starts. By four in the morning, he abandoned all pretense that he was going to get any sleep at all. He went to the gym, then went for a run, then ate early breakfast, pissing off the servers for being the only asshole who ate at six in the morning. By seven, he couldn’t sit on his ass. He ended up knocking on Neil’s door like his life depended on it. 

Andrew’s sleepy face popped up, annoyance burning in his eyes. “What the fuck, Day?”

Kevin pushed him inside and closed the door.

“Whoa, whoa, don’t come in people’s rooms like that, man. I could’ve been… indisposed,” Neil muttered from the bed, wrapping a sheet around himself. 

“Right. Because I didn’t live in the same dorm with you or pretended to be asleep while you were sucking each other’s dicks.”

“For fuck’s sake!”

“Kevin, god fucking damn it!”

Kevin laughed at Neil and Andrew’s faces. His friends seemed like the type who’d never get rattled by anything but right now, faint flush colored both their faces. 

Andrew squinted his eyes. “That was low.”

“Yeah, sure. I need to talk.”

Neil sat on the edge of the bed and gestured toward the couch. “Okay. No one’s dead, right?”

“No, _Neil_. No one’s dead.”

Kevin slumped down to the couch. He ran his hand through his hair a few times, reconsidering this conversation. Andrew wasn’t one for feelings talk and Neil was… well, Neil wasn’t opposed to it but his entire repertoire of feelings jumped from horror, pain and hopelessness right into Andrew. There was no in-between. 

Fuck it. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to talk to.

“So, umm… how’d you figure out you weren’t straight?”

Andrew grabbed his phone off the nightstand. “I’m out.”

“Dreeew, come on. Don’t be like that,” Neil practically whined. 

“Nope. Not participating in this discussion. See you at lunch.”

Neil chuckled when Andrew shut the door. He called room service, ordering coffee and sat on the chair across from Kevin. 

“Okay. What happened?”

“I… Nothing happened in particular, actually.”

“So what’s with the sexuality crisis, then?”

Kevin sighed. “I’m not having a sexuality crisis.”

“Sure? Okay, fine. Talk then.”

Kevin put his face in his hands. Fucking hell. _Was_ he having a sexuality crisis? That was bad. Really bad. What if he was… shit. What if he was not straight? That would hit on his career like a sledgehammer. No. No fucking way in hell he was into guys. 

But then he remembered the tingles all over his body when Jean touched him and… Shit. 

“Jean was drunk last night and he was about to kiss me and I was totally going to let him, I think, and he had his hand on my face and I liked it and now I don’t know what to do because this is fucking hell and I can’t do this shit.” He was out of breath when he stopped. 

Neil’s face was a neutral mask. A knock on the door pulled Kevin’s gaze away from Neil. 

“Get the coffee, Kev.” 

Kevin got the platter from the room service lady and placed it on the coffee table as Neil put clothes on in the bathroom. 

The redhead sat back down staring at Kevin as if he’d grown wings or something. 

“So. Jean. Not what I was expecting but I guess I get it.”

“Not the point, Neil.”

“Yeah, right. So you like Jean?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you want to kiss him.”

“I don’t know.”

Neil frowned. “Then why the hell are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!”

Kevin turned sideways and buried his face in the back of the couch. 

“Kev. Okay. Will you calm down?”

“I can’t like dudes, Neil. I just can’t.”

Neil sipped from his coffee, leaning back in the chair. “And why not?”

“It’s like I’m shitting on my own career, that’s why. I have a reputation to uphold. This is going to screw up everything.”

“Do you even hear yourself?”

“Yes!”

“Kevin. Figuring out whether or not you like guys has nothing to do with your goddamn reputation. It’s for _you_ to know.”

“It’s not—”

“Let me ask you something. I have a horrible reputation. I’m a fucking PR nightmare. I have mafia relatives, a murderous psychopath of a father, and I came out to the whole goddamn world in a picture with my boyfriend with a cat in my lap. You, on the other hand, don’t have a stain on your perfect public image. We’re both here. We’re both on the fucking Olympics, and at the top of the highest rated Exy players. So, excuse me, if I think your reputation excuse is bullshit. What are you so fucking scared of, Kev?”

What was he really that scared of? He had no idea. Suddenly, in a panicked moment of clarity, he knew what Neil meant when he said he had an Exy stick up his ass. He hadn’t let anything happen to him, anything that wasn’t Exy related. He hadn’t let himself be just Kevin for a really long time. 

“I…” What? What the fuck was it?

“You want me to guess?”

Kevin just nodded. 

“You care so much about how people see you that you forgot who you are without their idea of you. You’re not Riko, Kev. You’re not going to lose everything just because you’re not everyone’s picture-perfect Exy star.”

“I didn’t say I was like… I know I’m not.”

“Do you?” Neil pinned his elbows at his knees, leaning over. “You’re not going to lose this if you let yourself live a little. You’re not Riko. Just because you were raised with him doesn’t mean you’re like him. You haven’t done anything wrong, Kev. Stop comparing yourself to him. It’s been fucking years.”

Neil was wrong. Kevin didn’t compare himself to Riko. He didn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t abuse people like Riko had. No. But then… Riko had been good on the court. Perfect. His carefully crafted media image was impeccable, and he was a _goddamn good_ player. Better than Kevin. And he’d lost everything when the trials against the Moriyamas started. Kevin's name would always be linked to Riko one way or another. What if he fucked up? What if he slipped and ruined his public image and what if people saw nothing more than Riko Moriyama's crooked adopted ex-brother then? 

Kevin knew what a cracked reputation can do to a man in his position. He knew. 

“Kev.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m listening.”

“Are you going to say something?”

“I… Have to go to the gym.”

Neil sighed. “Okay. If you want to talk—”

“Yeah. I will.”

Kevin stormed out of the room. Was Neil right? Was he projecting this whole reputation thing on himself because of Riko? Oh, God, he really was, wasn’t he? He hadn’t let himself look anything less than the perfect Kevin Day in front of anyone but Neil and Andrew. In years. 

Neil was right. Kevin had forgotten who he was. He wasn't Riko's anything. He was Kevin Day and he’d forgotten how to live with the real version of himself. 

~~~

After their game against New Zealand, Kevin found Jean on the balcony on their floor again. He had his head pressed against the railing. 

“Aren’t you looking tragic,” Kevin said. 

Jean’s head shot up. “Well, we lost. Of course, I’m miserable.”

“It’s one game. We’ll still make it.”

“Are you that sure of yourself, Day? You’re not the only great Exy player in the world. Just saying.”

Kevin leaned against the railing, his shoulder almost touching Jean’s. It was a test. It was Kevin figuring himself out. 

“I didn’t say that. No one can win a game because they have one great player. It’s the team, Jean, stop making fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Jean bumped his shoulder into Kevin, and God, Kevin really didn’t need any fucking test to tell him he felt lit on fire on the inside at that simple touch. 

Kevin turned to look at Jean. His eyes were a cloudy winter day in the dark. 

“What’s the scar from?” Kevin pointed to his eyebrow. 

Jean raised the eyebrow in question which was incredibly attractive in a way that forced a flush in Kevin’s cheeks. 

“Piercing.”

Kevin smiled. “Thought so.”

“You’ve thought about my face? I’m flattered.” Jean smirked. 

The fucking asshole knew. He knew what he was doing to Kevin. 

“I just… noticed it on the airplane that one time.”

“Right. That one time. When I drooled over your shirt?”

Kevin cleared his throat. He was overheating. Which was ridiculous because it was well after midnight and the air was gorgeously fresh. Jean turned sideways, leaning against the railing. His eyes wandered around Kevin’s body, filling his head with thick fog. 

“I never apologized for the other day,” Jean said. 

“You don’t have to.”

“No?”

“No.”

Kevin’s breaths came out shaky. Jean reached for his cheek, his fingertips tracing his cheekbone. It had been a while since Kevin had kissed anyone, but it had never felt like that. That second when he knew he was about to be kissed, it never felt like the world tilted beneath his feet. 

“Just fucking kiss me, Jean,” Kevin whispered. 

Jean bit his lip and leaned in and… oh, God, Kevin was so not straight, he wanted to slap himself for ever thinking so. Jean’s lips were soft and delicate, nothing like Kevin expected them to be. His heart beat madly in his chest, heat spread down his neck, his lower back, claiming every nerve in Kevin’s body. He gripped Jean’s waist to balance himself and leaned further into the kiss. Jean’s tongue brushing against his own sent a tingling spark down Kevin’s spine. He couldn’t stop the moan in time before it left his mouth but he really didn’t care anymore. 

Jean cupped Kevin’s face, thumbs brushing his cheekbones, holding him in place. They kissed until Kevin was out of breath. 

Jean pressed his head into Kevin’s shoulder, mumbling into the fabric, “Guess I really don’t have to apologize for the other night.”

Kevin laughed. “Hm, what gave it away?”

That earned him a tiny bite into his collar bone that shot a spike of pleasure right into his dick. Oh, fuck, this was going to be a problem. 

Kevin woke up the next morning with his phone buzzing and a heavy knock on his door. He jumped into a pair of gym shorts and opened the door. 

“What?”

Neil pushed him inside and shoved his phone in Kevin’s face.

“What is that?” He grabbed the phone. 

Oh, shit. Fucking… No, no, no, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It was a picture of him, kissing someone, who decidedly looked like a guy. Jean’s face was blurry and unrecognizable from the angle the picture was taken. 

Kevin thought he might faint. 

“Wanna sit?” Neil said. 

Kevin walked back until his calves hit the bed and he slumped down to the mattress. 

“Do you know when that was taken?”

Kevin nodded. 

“Jean, I’m guessing?”

Kevin nodded again. He didn’t think he was capable of speech at this point. 

“Okay. You stay here. I’ll talk to Coach.”

Another nod.

Neil was already at the door when Kevin reached for his phone. He didn’t even want to think what shitshow Twitter was right now. It took one look to see his name trending. Fucking hell. 

Neil looked at him before he slipped out the door. “Kev.” Kevin looked up. “Everything’s going to be fine. Okay?”

Kevin nodded again. 

Except it wasn’t. Was the fuck was he thinking? 

~~~

The interview after the game against Sweden was a fucking nightmare. Not a single question about Exy. Everything was about Kevin and the mysterious man on the balcony, was Kevin gay, was that his boyfriend, was it someone who stayed in the hotel, was it someone from his own team or another team. Kevin wanted to shout at each one of those fucking assholes. 

Coach Lee patted his shoulder on their way out of the hall. He’d asked Kevin how he wanted to handle this but years of not having to deal with anything remotely incriminating had made Kevin absolutely inadequate when it came to stuff like that. 

The PR team dealt with this denying any rumors of relationships or Kevin’s sexual orientation. People did not buy any of it. 

There was fucking fanfiction about Kevin and the mysterious man. Luckily, in that picture all they could see was a tall guy with dark hair. Generic enough. But the list of names that circulated around social media… 

Kevin wanted to dig a hole in the ground and die. 

He took a long shower and poured himself a drink from the minibar. A knock on the door dragged him off the soft couch cushions. 

Jean’s gorgeous grey eyes stared at him when he opened it. The concern in them was… Well, it did things to Kevin he didn’t plan on ever saying out loud. 

“Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Kevin pulled the door open. 

“How are you doing?”

“Greaaat. You wanna drink?” Kevin leaned against the closed door, his head hitting against it with a dull thunk. 

Jean pressed his hands against Kevin’s shoulders. “No. I want to kiss you.”

Just saying so lit a fire in Kevin’s chest. He pressed a hand on the back of Jean’s neck and pulled him in. If the world was going to hell he could have that. Just for now. 

He shut down the part of his brain that said this was a bad, horrible career move, and pushed Jean backward until they fell onto the mattress. Kevin climbed on top of him, Jean’s lips pressing into his own driving him crazy. Kevin’s fingers found the hem of Jean’s shirt. The touch of skin against Kevin’s palms was too much, and not enough, and Kevin was losing his fucking mind. 

“Kev,” Jean murmured into his mouth. 

“Mhm.” Kevin kept kissing, and kissing, and licking his neck and fuck everything else. 

“Kev, slow down.”

Kevin pulled back panting. Right. Right. He hadn’t done this. Well, not with a guy. What if he was just… horrible at it? 

Oh, shit, why had he been such a fucking idiot in college? He could’ve had a normal college-kid sexual crisis. Like a normal fucking person. Instead, here he was, 26, on the peak of his Exy career, and a goddamn mess. A very not straight goddamn mess. 

“Yeah. Right. I’m sorry, I—”

Jean pulled him down into another kiss. “Don’t apologize.” He rolled them over and pinned Kevin’s shoulder to the mattress. His fingers ran wavy paths up and down Kevin’s chest. “Wanna talk about it?”

“About the eventual screw up of my career? Sure. That’s exactly what I wanna talk about.”

Jean laughed. “Jesus, you’re a mess. That’s a surprise. You always seemed so… put together.”

“Spoiler alert: I’m not. I’m nothing of the sort.”

Jean slipped to his side, pulled Kevin’s shirt over his head and kissed his collar bone. “Yeah.” 

“You hated me,” Kevin mumbled as Jean traced a path of kisses down his solar plexus. 

“I did.”

“So what changed your mind?”

“What changed yours?”

Kevin shivered when Jean bit down at his hip bone. “I… God…” He drew a deep breath. “I never hated you. It was just you.”

Jean kissed his way back to Kevin’s face. “Okay… Here’s the thing. When the Moriyamas took me from my parents, I thought I was going to die. I mean, I was fifteen, I knew what my father did. So I knew where I was going. And then I saw you on the court and I thought I’d never seen anything more gorgeous.”

Kevin felt his cheeks heat. Jean smiled. 

“I guess now that Riko figured it out. He noticed how I was looking at you even if you didn’t. He told me everything he did to me was because you wanted it. Because you asked him to do it. And I believed him. I thought you knew how I…” Jean swallowed. 

“How you?”

“Felt. I thought you knew and you were disgusted and you wanted Riko to hurt me because of it.”

Kevin ran a hand through Jean’s hair. “I’ve never—”

“Shut up. I know that now. I never knew he hurt you, too. I thought you were like him.”

Kevin froze at that. Like him. Like Riko. The very thing he’d fought not to be like his entire life. 

Jean noticed the change on Kevin’s face and cupped his cheek. “You’re not. I missed the signs of how wrong I was because I wasn’t looking. But this last month, I did. He wanted me to hate you because it’s easier to control people when they’re divided. Then you left Evermore and I never got to know the truth.”

“You’re such a stubborn shit, you know that? You couldn’t talk to me once for all those years?”

Jean laughed wetly. “No. I’m French. We’re dramatic like that.” 

Jean kissed him into the mattress, hands buried in his hair, and Kevin couldn’t think of a single reason why he wouldn’t want this. He wanted every second of it, as long as Jean wanted it to go on. 

He didn’t know when he dozed off. He woke up in the middle of the night, a slight feeling of disorientation eating at him at the feeling of another body in his bed, but Jean’s arm pulling him closer settled everything in place. Kevin turned and buried his face in Jean’s chest and let himself drift off. 

~~~

Kevin woke up with Jean’s hands on his waist. He sneaked out of bed, took a quick shower and called room service for coffee. He stood by the door, waiting for them so they wouldn't knock and wake Jean up. 

Jean was gorgeous in the morning. Alright, fine, Jean was gorgeous all the time. But his hair was falling in his eyes, and his face was soft and sweet and Kevin wanted to kiss the hell out of it. He put the coffee cups on the nightstand and sneaked back in the bed. Jean’s head was against his shoulder and all Kevin wanted was to spend the day here. He ran his fingers through the backliner’s hair, closing his eyes to the feeling of the silky locks between his fingers. 

Jean shifted, murmuring something into Kevin’s skin that sounded like “gorgeous” and Kevin melted at the sound. Fuck, this wasn’t supposed to happen. 

Objectively, this didn’t mean anything. They had just kissed and made out like teenagers. This didn’t mean they were in a relationship or anything. No one had to know about it. 

It was just… physical attraction. Yes, that’s what it was. Kevin wasn’t going to deny the obvious, and it was that Jean Moreau was absolutely fucking gorgeous. Black messy hair, grey eyes that carried storms inside them, a vague overall bad-boy look that made Kevin weak in the knees. That curve on his hips that fit Kevin’s hand perfectly, and the mole on his hip bone. That spot on his lips that always looked a little red because Jean liked to chew on it. 

God. Stop thinking!

Jean was kissing his neck again and Kevin didn’t know what to do with himself. He was so used to wanting one thing and one thing only and that wasn’t a person. 

Now, all he could think about was the place where the waistband of Jean’s boxers slipped a little too low and how much he wanted to kiss that very spot. 

“I got coffee,” Kevin said, distracting himself from that thought. 

Jean hummed something incoherent, reached over the nightstand and took a sip. The bliss of that first taste of coffee looked like heaven on his face. 

_God_. 

“We should probably go to the gym,” Kevin said. 

“We will.” 

Jean put the coffee down, pushed Kevin into the mattress and kissed him senseless for the rest of the morning. 

They won the game. And the next. And the next. 

And everything in between was kisses and hands on warm skin and more kisses. Jean didn’t push Kevin to take this further than making out but Kevin didn’t think he could live another day if he didn’t have more. 

More of everything Jean wanted to give him. 

After midnight, Kevin found his way to Jean’s room. The second he opened the door, Kevin pushed him and slammed him against the wall kissing him hard. 

Jean kissed with certainty that scared the shit out Kevin. Like he knew exactly what he was doing. He probably did. Which made everything even scarier, because Kevin was a complete mess. He went by instinct and he had no idea if what he did was right. If Jean _liked_ it. 

Jean cradled Kevin’s jaw, his tongue licking into his mouth, turning Kevin’s knee to jello. Kevin slid his hand under the hem of Jean’s shirt mapping out every inch of him. Heat pooled at his stomach. 

Jean slipped a hand down Kevin’s back, making his way down his waist and below the waistband of his sweats. When Jean cupped his ass cheek, Kevin muffled a moan in his shirt. 

He pushed Jean’s shirt over his head, and kissed a sloppy wet path from his collar bone to his hips. Jean caught his head and pulled him back up to meet his mouth in a slow kiss. 

“Get on the bed,” Jean murmured in his ear. 

Fuck. Kevin’s head was so fucking hazy. He sat on the bed and pulled himself up on his elbows. He watched Jean walk over, shirtless, his sweats hanging on his hips too low. Kevin stared. 

“Take them off,” Kevin said. 

Jean’s breath caught a little. “Kev.”

“Take them off, Jean,” Kevin said his name in his French accent that he knew drove Jean crazy. 

Jean pulled his sweats off and climbed in the bed only in his boxer shorts. He bit Kevin’s collarbone, sucking on it and Kevin knew it would leave a mark but right now he wanted it more than anything. He wanted Jean to mark his body, claim him as his own. It was a sick, twisted desire that Kevin had never felt before. 

Jean licked a wet stripe on Kevin’s neck and whispered in his ear, “What do you want, Kev?”

“You.”

Kevin didn’t think. He cupped Jean’s ass and pressed him flush against his body. 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

The thing was, Jean knew Kevin hadn’t been with a man before, and he kept treating him like a delicate teenage virgin. 

“Anything you want, Jean. I want everything.”

Jean huffed a laugh against his skin. He kept kissing him, every scar on Kevin’s stomach, the stretch of skin above his waistband. He pulled Kevin’s sweats and boxers down and threw them on the floor. 

The devouring look in Jean’s eyes drew a flush in Kevin’s cheeks. 

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Jean murmured. 

He slid his hands over Kevin’s thighs and gripped his hips, pushing down a bit. When his tongue licked the head of his cock, Kevin forgot how to breathe altogether. His fists gripped the sheets as he watched Jean take him into his mouth. Jean took him a little further with each slide of his lips down the length of his cock. 

Kevin squeezed the sheets in his fists tighter as the heat built up in his stomach. He was falling apart, caught in the warm softness of Jean’s mouth. 

“J-jean,” Kevin dragged his name out like a prayer. “Stop. Stop, I can’t…”

Jean pulled back immediately. 

Kevin’s breaths come out shaky. “I’ll come and I can’t… I mean… I can’t last if you do that.”

“And?”

“And I want more.”

Jean leaned over Kevin, pressing a kiss to his mouth. 

“You want more.” Jean said, biting Kevin’s lip. His hands traveled down, breaking contact only to pull his own boxers down. Kevin looked down. 

Jean’s cock was flushed and leaking precum and Kevin knew there was a fifty percent chance he was doing it wrong but he didn’t care. He reached down, pressing his thumb into Jean’s slit. Watching Jean bite that spot on his lip shut down Kevin’s brain completely. He smeared precum over his hand, gripped their cocks together and gripped Jean’s hip with his free hand. 

He’d fantasized about that at least a dozen times since he kissed Jean on that balcony. It wasn’t hard to follow through with the fantasy. Except he didn’t expect the sounds dripping off Jean’s mouth to hit him right in the spine, to add so much tension in his stomach. 

Jean kissed him, hungrily, desperately, moaning in Kevin’s mouth. Kevin bit his lip, the side of his jaw, the soft spot on Jean’s neck, leaving a red mark behind. 

He alternated stroking them slowly, then faster, then slow again until Jean was a babbling mess. Seeing him like that pushed him closer to the edge. 

Jean murmured something in French against Kevin’s lips, followed by his name and it was over for Kevin. He came with Jean’s name rolling off his lips. Jean kissed him, muffling his moans in Kevin’s mouth, and spilled over. 

He rolled on his back, gasping for a breath, groping until he caught Kevin’s hand. Their fingers laced together. 

“If you care about me, you’ll drag me in the shower, love,” Jean said. 

The word dragged Kevin’s breathing to a sudden stop. _Love_. Every thought of something temporary turned to ash right then and there. 

~~~

They made it to the final. 

Kevin couldn’t sit still. He was all jitters and adrenaline turning his blood to liquid fire. Even the cold shower after the game didn’t put the fire down. The interview after the semi-finals was a blur. He didn’t remember a word he said. All he knew was Jean’s eyes wandered around his face, slid down his chest and he wanted him in his arms right then and there. 

He barely made it to the elevator, ignoring someone who called his name to wait. He didn’t care. Jean was inside and Kevin. Didn’t. Care. 

The second the doors closed, Kevin slammed Jean against the wall and kissed him. His hands pushed Jean’s shirt up, sliding over his abs. 

“Kev, wait a minute, darling, there are people everywhere.”

Kevin bit his lip shutting him up. “Don’t care. I want you.” Kevin bit the side of Jean’s neck, eliciting a soft moan from the backliner. He rubbed his hand over the lump in Jean’s pants, biting down at his neck again. 

“Kev,” Jean hissed his name. 

On the fifth floor, Kevin pulled him out of the elevator by the shirt collar and dragged him toward his room. Jean’s eyes burned with something Kevin hadn’t seen before. He was pretty sure it reflected everything in Kevin’s own gaze. 

He unlocked the door with a shaky hand and pulled Jean inside. Adrenaline sent his pulse into the sky. 

Jean pushed a hand in Kevin’s hair, tugging slightly and Kevin whimpered at the pleasure shooting down his spine. Jean nipped at his neck, drawing small circles with his tongue. 

“Jean.”

Jean hummed against his skin and flicked his tongue over his ear. 

“God, Jean.” Kevin held Jean’s chin in his hand, so, so close to his lips. He licked Jean’s lips and whispered against them, “I want… I want you to fuck me.” 

Jean went perfectly still. “Kevin. That’s…”

“I want it, Jean.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush things.”

“Yes,” Kevin pulled him in. “Yes, Jean, I’m sure. I want you.”

Jean led him backward to the bed, peeling his shirt off. He caught the waistband of his pants, working quickly through his buttons and zipper. Kevin sank onto the bed, watching Jean take his own shirt and pants off. The outline of his cock was clear in his boxers. The sight of him, standing in front of Kevin, hard and naked and so infuriatingly gorgeous made his dick twitch. 

Jean slipped his boxers down and crawled on the bed, hovering over Kevin. Kevin kissed him slowly, savoring every second of Jean’s lips dragging over his own. Jean positioned himself between Kevin’s legs, hands traveling down, sending tingles through every inch of skin they reached. 

“Do you have—”

“Yes,” Kevin whispered against Jean’s mouth. He reached over the nightstand, digging in for the lube bottle. 

“You’ve really thought this through.” Jean smiled softly. 

Kevin thought this would be scarier, something to rattle his nerves, but it didn’t. Jean’s touch was tender, cautious, sending warmth and pure pleasure through Kevin’s body. He was safe. He knew Jean would stop if Kevin asked. 

Kevin cradled Jean’s neck and pulled him closer. Kissing Jean was something Kevin didn’t think he could ever get enough of. Every slide of lips hazed his head, sending heat down his stomach. His chest was on fire. 

Jean worked Kevin loose with wet kisses and touches in spots Kevin didn’t know were so sensitive. 

Jean’s lubed finger pressing in stopped the air in Kevin’s lungs. It was slow and careful, Jean’s eyes watching for every twitch on Kevin’s face. He curled his finger, touching a spot that dragged a loud moan out of him. _God_. Kevin pressed his hand over his mouth to smother the next one. Jean opened him up, taking his time to work Kevin loose and soft and pliant in his hands. When he added a third finger, Kevin whined. Every push pressed against that spot that made Kevin sob in pleasure. 

“Jean… Just do it. Fucking do it. I want you.” 

Jean slid his hands over Kevin’s thigh, his hips, up his chest. He leaned over and kissed him. One hand sliding down, Jean moved Kevin’s leg a little wider. He kissed and kissed and kissed Kevin, and then pushed slowly inside him, effectively knocking the air out of his lung. 

He moved slow, letting Kevin decide the pace. When he bottomed out, Kevin whined Jean’s name out on a desperate gasp. Jean punched another thrust in, harder than the last one. 

“Jeaan, fuck.”

Kevin’s fingers buried in Jean’s hair, tugging. Each push hit that spot and Kevin knew he wouldn’t last nearly as long as he hoped for. He bit his lip, smothering a whimper. Jean picked up the speed, his breaths hitching every time Kevin spilled his name like melted honey. 

Kevin didn’t care what sounds came out of his mouth. He was weightless, falling apart, his thoughts torn to a billion incoherent pieces. 

“Don’t stop,” Kevin sobbed. Jean’s hand wrapped around Kevin’s leaking cock, stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts. “Jean, oh God, Jean, sweetheart…”

“God, you’re gorgeous, love, fuck! Kev…” Jean bit down a groan, his hand swiping in Kevin’s hair, gripping hard as Kevin felt the pulses rock through his body. 

The feeling of Jean spilling inside him pushed him over the edge. He came with a broken whimper, grasping Jean’s hair like it was a lifeboat. 

Jean pressed his forehead on Kevin’s chest, both of them shaking with aftershocks. 

Kevin reached down for Jean’s shirt and wiped his stomach off gaining a frown from Jean. He turned Jean on his side and pulled him closer. 

Their breaths were shaky, brushing each other’s skin as they pressed their bodies together. 

Kevin could stop time and just exist at this moment until he died, and he’d still die a happy man. 

The touch of Jean’s fingertips brushing his cheek was the softest thing Kevin had ever felt. Kevin caught his hand and kissed his fingers like he wanted to imprint his touch into his lips. 

He fell asleep with Jean’s hand buried in his hair and their foreheads pressed together. 

~~~

An hour before the final, Twitter exploded. 

Someone took a picture of them. Kevin dragging Jean out of the elevator, hands gripping his collar and his tongue in Jean’s mouth. 

Kevin was shaking in the locker room. Everyone’s eyes were on him. 

“Hey.” Neil sat next to him on the bench, patting his shoulder. “Hey, Kev, look at me.”

Kevin bit the inside of his cheek forcing his gaze away from the floor. Neil had a concerned look on his face and that fire that usually meant he wanted to murder someone in his sleep. 

“I’m fine.”

“Sure, you are.”

“I’m fine, Neil. We have a game to win.”

“I know. Let’s do it then. Just play and fuck everything else.”

Kevin did. 

He gave everything he had on that court. 

He was all sweat, muscle burn and heart spilling on the floor. 

And they lost. 

USA: Japan, 18:21. 

They lost. 

They _lost_. 

Kevin looked at the scoreboard as if he expected it to change. It didn’t. The harrowing 21 remained the same. 

Everything Kevin wanted shattered to pieces.

Everything he’d lived for, reduced to a fucking number on a scoreboard. 21. 

He couldn't breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. 

Kevin shut down. Everything after the last buzzer turned into a stretched-out moment of haze. The handshakes, the medal ceremony, the interview, the shouting fans around the hotel. 

Twitter was a shitshow. 

The comments punched Kevin in the guts. 

_If **@KevinDay1** focused less on sucking dick and more on actually playing, we would’ve won! _

_Guess **@KevinDay1** scored except not on the court. _

_Told you **@KevinDay1** was a fucking bender! _

He shut his phone down and opened the bottle of vodka he'd gotten from the bar. 

By midnight, Kevin had successfully ignored Neil’s voice pleading for him to open the door, Andrew’s death threats for the same and Coach Lee’s consolation speech. 

He was so drunk he could barely focus on the wall clock anymore. He’d been watching the damn thing for the last three hours, draining glass after another. 

Another knock on the door. 

“Kev, will you open the door?” Jean’s voice came soft and steady. 

Kevin took a sip from his drink. 

“Kevin. Please. I’ll stay here until you open the door, okay?”

Kevin threw the glass at the door. 

“Come on, love, talk to me.”

That sent Kevin up on his feet, shaky and unbalanced. He stumbled his way to the door and pulled it open. 

“Fuck off, Jean.”

Jean pressed each hand on the door frame, leaning in. “Can I come in?”

“Why? There anything left to fuck up for me?”

Kevin slurred. 

“Let’s get inside and talk.”

“I have nothing to say, Jean.”

Jean pressed a hand against Kevin’s chest pushing him inside. “I know you’re upset. It sucks, okay, I get. We lost the fucking Olympics. But I’m not letting you do this to yourself. This isn’t your fault, Kev.”

A low, horrible laugh made its way out of Kevin’s mouth. This _was_ Kevin’s fault. He let this happen. He let himself lose focus. He let Jean fuck him up. 

This was the reason why Kevin didn’t do this. He didn’t have time for this shit. Neil was wrong. 

_You’re not going to lose this if you let yourself live a little._

And yet Kevin had. He lost his mind to someone who could only drag him down. He fucked up his perfect reputation, shit on his own career and lost the Olympics. 

He did lose everything. 

Just because he lost his focus on what was important. 

“Get out, Jean,” Kevin said, making a weak attempt to push his hand away. 

“Kev, I’m not going to leave you alone.”

Kevin laughed. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t want you here. I don’t want you near me. I don’t want to fucking see you.”

Jean stepped back, his face wrecked. “Kevin, what are you say—”

“What I’m saying is, this was a mistake.”

“You’re not serious.”

“Get. Out.”

“Kevin, please, don’t do this.”

“Oh, fuck off, Jean. This was nothing more than a fucking fling and it had already cost me more than I can take. Just get the fuck out.”

Jean looked at him as if Kevin had slapped him. It burned Kevin’s insides to push him away, but this was the right thing to do. 

~~~

_One month later_

Kevin knew, objectively, that he was in bad shape. But nothing he did helped. It had been a nightmare of a month. Interviews and endless questions about Kevin and Jean’s relationship and Kevin’s persistent denial, denial, denial. He was exhausted. 

Jean was back in New York with his team and he never called Kevin. Not that Kevin expected him to. Or wanted it. 

Kevin was back in Atlanta with Neil and Andrew and back to practice with the Atlanta Hawks.

This was for the best. Kevin had to repair what he’d broken at the Olympics. His career was a fractured mess and Kevin would do anything to go back to that sweet spot where he was America’s Exy golden boy. 

Kevin sat on his couch, draining a fourth glass of scotch. 

It was one in the morning. A month ago, after midnight was the time when Kevin felt alive. Wrapped in Jean’s arms, covered in his kisses, drawing warmth from his skin. 

He closed his eyes, dwelling in another memory. Jean whispering in his ear, in French, and Kevin’s entire body shivering at the sound of that voice. 

His phone buzzed on the coffee table for the tenth time that evening. Kevin had successfully ignored Neil’s calls for the last three days. But it wasn’t Neil. 

Andrew’s name flashed on the screen. When the call went to voicemail, Andrew shot a text. 

_Pick up or I’m coming over._

Kevin sighed and dialed his number.

“What?” he said the second the call connected. 

“Talk to Neil, dick.”

A noise like shuffling of fabric came from the phone speakers, then Neil’s sleepy voice in the background.

_“Hmm?”_

_“Talk to Kevin.”_

Neil finally spoke to the phone. “Kev?”

“What?”

“You’re alive. Shocking.”

“What do you want, Neil? I’m fine. I just need to be alone, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, you need to be alone, you need to be miserable. Got it. God, you’re so dramatic.”

“What. Do. You. Want?”

“Okay. Listen. Navaro is retiring. You didn’t hear it from me, coach Ruiz slipped it out. So, the Hawks are recruiting a new backliner. They want Moreau.”

Kevin’s heart stuttered to a stop. He swallowed hard. 

“He won’t sign with us,” Neil said. 

“What does that have to do with me?”

“I will literally drive to your apartment right now and kick you in the fucking face, Kevin!” That was Andrew. 

“Take me off speakerphone,” Kevin hissed. 

“Okay.” When Neil spoke again it wasn’t to Kevin. _“Hey let me talk to him, okay?”_ There was another ruffling sound. “Kev, now, what I’m going to say has nothing to do with Exy. Yeah, alright, Jean’s an amazing backliner, we’ll be happy to have him, whatever. I don’t care. I’ll ask you something and you’ll tell me the truth and no more “I’m okay” bullshit. Okay?”

Kevin hummed in response.

“Do you want him here?”

“Neil, this isn’t—”

“Yes or no, Kev. It’s that simple.”

“It isn’t simple.”

“Just yes or no.”

Kevin swallowed. His whole body buzzed with soft static at the thought of Jean being close to him again. He wanted his lips on his skin, his voice whispering in his ear. He wanted to listen to stories about his day, about France, about the idiotic pranks his teammates pulled on each other. 

He wanted all of Jean Moreau. Every day. And he didn’t know how to have him and keep his career, how to balance between those two things. 

“Yes,” Kevin finally said. 

“Then what the hell are you doing, Kev?”

“Neil, I can’t… I can’t do this. I can’t just… I already fucked up so much. I can’t—”

“Do you even hear yourself when you say shit like that?”

“What, are you going to tell me I didn’t fuck anything up?” Kevin snorted. “Please. The Olympics were a fucking shitshow, Neil. We lost because of me. We lost because I didn’t play like I would’ve if Jean wasn’t there. Because of all the fucking pictures, and the rumors and the twitter bullshit. We lost because I let myself slip downhill.”

“Okay. Let’s say, for the argument purpose, that you’re right. Let’s say you can restore your perfect reputation. Will you be happy then?”

“Neil—”

“No. Think of it, you can have it all back, will you be _happy_ then?”

Kevin swilled down his drink. Would he be happy? The answer hung over his head like a guillotine blade. “No. Is that what you want me to say? I won’t be happy. Because it feels like nothing fucking matters anymore. I just want… I want… I… Neil…”

“Go on.”

“I… This isn’t… I can’t do this. This is like…”

“What do you want, Kev?”

Kevin pressed his face into the back of the couch, forcing down the urge to scream. “I want him. I want him back. I want… I just want him back. I don’t care about…”

Kevin clapped a hand over his mouth because the next words would be a lie. _I don’t care about anything else_ . It was a lie. It was. _It fucking was_. But then why the hell did it feel so easy to say it? So right, it clicked in place right in his heart. 

Neil chuckled. “Welcome to the land of the living, R2D2.”

“Fuck off, Neil.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m the worst. Can you please go _fucking talk_ to Moreau already? Honestly, you moping around like a kicked puppy for a month is more tragic-Kevin than I can take for a lifetime.”

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re a delusional idiot.”

Kevin disconnected the call. 

Six hours later, he stood on Jean Moreau’s doorstep in New York. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! He knocked on the door. It was seven in the morning and Kevin had no idea what the hell he was doing. 

Well, not that this was news. He had no idea what he was doing about the majority of things outside of an Exy court. 

When Jean opened the door, Kevin’s heart jumped in his throat. Jean’s eyes grew wider, his expression went from confused to wide awake to hurt in seconds. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to… see you.”

“You wanted to see me.” Jean broke eye contact with Kevin and looked down at his feet. 

“Can I come in?” 

That snapped Jean’s head back up. “Why? What did you come for? Want to tell me how I fucked up your entire life again? I don’t need this, Kevin.”

Oh, shit, that was going to be hard. Kevin actually had to talk about feelings. _His_ feelings. And he sucked at it. 

“I’m sorry I said that.”

“Great. Apology accepted, now go away.” Jean pushed the door to shut it in Kevin’s face. 

Kevin pushed it back. “Jean, please. Let’s just talk for a minute. Just a minute.”

Jean ran a hand over his face and stepped back. Kevin followed him inside. His apartment was all white furniture and light, and floor-to-ceiling windows, the exact opposite of what Evermore looked on the inside. 

The morning sun hit Jean’s face, making his skin glow in a soft golden shade. Only now Kevin noticed how wrecked he looked. Darkened eyes and shadows underneath, the thin line he struggled to keep with his lips pressed tightly together. 

“Okay, talk then.” Jean leaned against the back of the couch watching Kevin shift from foot to foot. 

Kevin had never been good at saying what he felt. Maybe because he’d evaded feeling altogether for so long. He was certain he fucking this up before he even opened his mouth. 

“I… I shouldn’t have said what I said to you in France.”

“You feel how you feel, Kevin. This isn’t something I can change.”

Kevin stepped closer. “This isn’t how I feel. This was… I mean… Jean, I don’t...Shit.” Kevin held his face in his palms. 

Jean’s hands cupping Kevin’s face were a surprise. A little jolt of static dancing across his skin. 

“You’re a mess, Day.”

Kevin huffed a weak laugh. “Yeah.”

Jean was close enough to light every fiber in Kevin’s body to life. “Why did you come here, darling?”

Kevin melted at the pet name. “I’m sorry. I was scared.” It came out barely a whisper. 

Jean pulled him in, a hand in his hair, his lips on Kevin’s forehead. “I know you were.”

Kevin pulled back a notch. No. He could say more, he wanted to. Jean deserved more than a fractured mess who couldn’t put his feelings in words. 

He brushed his knuckles over Jean’s cheek. “I’m…” He drew a deep breath. “I’m yours if you still want me.”

Jean looked at him with those huge, stormy grey eyes and Kevin wanted to get lost in them. “Are you sure about this? You’ll always have to deal with the media blowback if we’re—”

“Yes. Yes. Fuck them. Yes. I don’t want anything else. Just you.”

Jean pulled him in and kissed him. 

One month of fucking meaningless pain, all gone with that single touch of lips. Kevin buried his hands in Jean’s hair deepening the kiss. It all felt like an avalanche after that. Jean’s teeth grazing Kevin’s neck, hands on his hips pushing him backward. Kevin falling on Jean’s cream-colored satin sheets, Jean climbing after him. Shirts shed off and hands gliding over warm skin, and kissing, so much of it, Kevin felt lightheaded. 

Kevin pinned Jean down and climbed on top of him, nipping at his neck. Jean’s touches down Kevin’s chest were so soft and tender like the backliner was afraid Kevin would break if he touched too hard. 

“How long are you staying, love?” Jean murmured. 

Here that word was again, melting Kevin’s heart inside his chest. _Love_. Kevin didn’t think he’d ever loved anyone before. But that feeling in his chest… The way Jean’s face looked in the sun and the exact shade of grey in his eyes, and the featherlight touch of his fingertips across Kevin’s skin, it all felt suspiciously like falling from a very tall building and he could place that word perfectly. 

“Don’t know. Until coach Ruiz burst through the door and drags me back to Atlanta?” 

Jean laughed. “So dramatic.”

“Speaking of coach Ruiz. Have you… umm… I mean… I’m not saying you should do what I want, it’s just… Have you thought of the offer?”

Jean brushed his thumb along Kevin’s lower lip. “Do you want me to sign it?”

“Jean… This isn’t my decision to make. Do I want you there? Yes. Yes. Fuck yes, I do. I want you in my life more than anything. But this can work even if you decide to stay with your team. We can work whatever you decide.”

Jean looked at him for a long moment, featherlight touches dancing across Kevin’s cheek. Then he reached over to the nightstand and dialed a number on his phone. 

Kevin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. 

“Hi, yes, coach Ruiz, this is Jean Moreau.” Kevin’s breath hitched. “I’ll take your offer. I have to call you back but thought I should let you know.”

Then he disconnected the call and dropped his phone on the floor. 

“That work for you, Day?”

Kevin kissed his answer onto his skin, spilling feverish little kisses along his jawline and down his neck. “Mhm. You should skip practice today.”

Kevin moved down, marking a path of kisses and small bites down Jean’s chest. 

“I don’t know, maybe you should reimburse me for— _God_ , Kev…” Kevin smiled against the mark he sucked on Jean’s hipbone. “You're making a strong case there. Do it again.”

Kevin laughed and bit another mark into his skin. 

They spent the whole day in bed, tangled limbs and hungry kisses, and little confessions whispered breathlessly in sweaty hair. Jean held Kevin pressed against his chest that night, his breath in Kevin’s neck, leaving small kisses in his hair every time he woke up. 

And maybe Kevin did win the Olympics after all. 

He did. He just didn’t get a gold medal for it. 

He got something better.

  
  
  
  



End file.
